The Harry Potter Chronicles
by Dark.Celeste777
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts was a huge mark of Wizarding History. And the boy who finished it - legendary. After years of uncertainty, and a future filled with bleakness, Harry Potter now has his future in his own hands. Starting from the day after the battle until the moment Harry is helping his second son onto the Hogwarts Express, what will the three get up to? Rated M for later
1. Ron's Plan

Harry climbed the decrepit staircases of Hogwarts, the tiredness in his limbs turning his bones to cold stone. Ron and Hermione had offered to accompany him to Gryffindor tower, but he had declined, preferring to spend some time alone to reflect on what had just occurred - the moment in history he had caused. Voldemort was dead and he, Harry, had killed him. The horror and fear he had caused over his past half a century, stripped from him in an instant, his power and glory ripped from him showing the world who he truly was. A man as scared of death as any mortal man who craved immortality, a power none can truly posses.

Harry paused in the corridor, just before the portrait of the Fat Lady as the full scope of the situation fell upon him. Voldemort was dead. No more worrying about who was behind every corner; no more fearing to walk down a street; no more having to worry about whether or not he would live to the next day. Finally, he was free to live. He could live! He could find happiness without worrying about it being destroyed; he could openly love someone without the fear of them being used. He had something he hadn't had before, something he'd wanted. He had a future before him that only he could decide where it went.

What did it matter if he slept for three days, sleeping away this weariness? He had that time. He finally had it.

He approached the Fat Lady's portrait. Aside from a few chunks of missing wall around it and a few tears, it was fine. She was there, looking all hot and bothered, Harry assumed because of the state of her portrait.

"Password?" she asked, her eyebrow raised slightly and a hint of a smirk.

"Er..." Harry rooted to the spot, suddenly aware that he did not, in fact, know the password. "I've been...er... away."

The Fat Lady laughed and swung forward to Harry's utter astonishment.

"I know dear, I watched you on the way up. Congratulations! I hear you ended You-Know-Who. Very brave!"

Harry fidgeted but merely smiled and climbed through the hole. It didn't look as though anything had changed in the common room, aside from the notice board, which had several old notice's that had someone become so dishevelled they were impossible to read, and some had ended up in the fire, the blacked burnt scraps visible at the edge of the grate. Harry smiled to himself and climbed up to his bed, ready for a good night and a day's sleep.

"Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. The sun was shining in from the opposite window almost directly in his eyes. He figured it must have been late in the morning . Ron, Hermione and Neville were by his bedside table, each looking as though they'd been awake for hours. Ron and Hermione were holding hands and Neville was holding a letter. Harry reached for his glasses while Neville handed him the letter.

"It's from Hestia Jones."

"Hestia...oh!" Harry stared at the envelope, wondering whether or not to open it. He looked at Ron and Hermione. Ron shrugged, but Hermione said, "Open it Harry. You'll want to know eventually."

Harry very much doubted this, but opened it anyway, read it and crumpled it into a ball.

"Well, the Dursley's are alright." He said, standing up, not entirely sure what he felt about that. "Though I don't know about Hestia and Diggle, they may need time to recover." Ron laughed.

"C'mon mate, let's go to the common room. Kreacher is bringing you up some food."

Harry's stomach grumbled appreciatively at the thought. He followed the three downstairs. Despite how many Gryffindor students had fought in the battle, the common room looked deserted. He mentioned this to Ron.

"Most of them left yesterday - went home to recover. They'll be back in August though, helping to fix all this." Ron looked out of the window as below the cobblestones were fighting one another to try get back into place. "Though we shouldn't have to do much - the castle is enchanted, it should fix itself over time."

"How did you know that?" Hermione asked, looking suspicious. Ron's ears turned red.

"Well, you kept quoting 'Hogwarts: A History' so I read Bills copy at his place, to, erm..."

Hermione looked dumbfounded. Harry and Neville shared a look and immediately changed the conversation.

"Some parents whose kids stayed have found a place in Hogsmeade to stay. The teachers have been in the Great Hall whenever they have been awake, planning for several different things and co-ordinating with Kingsley Shacklebolt." Neville studied Harry momentarily before saying, "I reckon you're getting off lightly right now, but give it time. No doubt you'll have interviews coming up in a few days; the whole Wizarding world will want to know what happened."

Harry grimaced and sat down heavily in the large armchair by the fire, Ron and Hermione took the sofa. Neville remained standing, with his hands in his pockets.

"I'm going down to the Entrance Hall, McGonagall needs volunteers to help clean out the Carrow's study." He clapped Harry on the back and waved at the other two. As he disappeared out of the portrait hole, a loud crack emanated from the room as Kreacher appeared before them, bowing low, with a silver tray balance precariously in his hands.

"Morning Master Harry," he said, whipping off the lid to the platter to reveal a full English breakfast for 3 with tea. "I trust you slept well?"

"Very well thanks Kreacher," Harry said, taking a plate and a mug."How are you – and the other house elves?"

Kreacher was handing Ron and Hermione their food and his ears quivered slightly. "Everyone is good, but Hogwarts is so damaged. We don't know if we'll be able to get it ready in time for next term."

"We'll be helping." Hermione declared, as though this was yet another SPEW assignment they should take on board, though this time Harry and Ron did not protest.

"Absolutely!" Ron cried, before ripping one of his sausages in half and devouring it in one swallow. Hermione looked at him half in revulsion and half admiration. Harry already had a full spoon of beans in his mouth but he nodded to show he too would help. Kreacher smiled and tended to the fire while they ate, silence save for the sound of chewing and the odd drinking of tea. When Harry had cleaned his plate Kreacher turned to him.

"Can Kreacher get you anything else Master Harry?"

"Thanks Kreacher but I'm good," he handed him his empty plate, only just registering how hungry he must have been. Ron and Hermione handed Kreacher their plates. Kreacher stacked them on the tray and bowed.

"Just tell me if you need anything Master," he said and with another bow to the three of them and a genuine smile of warmth, he disappeared with another loud CRACK!

Ron turned to Harry.

"Now what mate?" he asked, but it was Hermione who replied.

"My parents!" she said, her voice carefully controlled. Harry and Ron shared a momentarily puzzled look, until they remembered.

"Australia!" Ron said, putting his arm around her. "Blimey! Well, we'll go get them. We can track them down. After traipsing all over England looking for Horcruxes it'll be nice to go to Australia and find people!"

Hermione began crying into his shoulder. Ron threw Harry a desperate look, but he had nothing to offer. Ron stroked her hair. "It'll be alright Hermione, watch. You'll see. We'll go to Australia now and..."

"Now?" repeated Hermione and Harry, both in very different tones.

"But I don't even know where they could be!"

"I don't have a passport!"

"Passport?" echoed Ron, he muttered it again and then shook his head, muttering something about Muggles. "We'll Apparate. You still have the bag right Hermione?" She nodded weakly. "And Harry do you think you could ask Kreacher to get us some food to go?"

"I guess..."

"Great, we'll leave in an hour."


	2. Mr and Mrs Wilkins

The Australian sun beat down upon the golden sand, the sea gently lapping at the shore. Children with buckets and spades played in the shallows, while adults laid upon blankets stretched under the skies taking advantage of the unusually warm autumn weather. Harry tiptoed around the blankets, leading the way along the beach while Ron and Hermione followed on, stopped occasionally to scoop the sand from between their toes. Up ahead, a small piece of tarmac joined the beach to the road and Harry sighed with silent, happy, relief.

"Let's take a break mate!" Harry turned around to see Hermione sat on the sand and Ron crouching beside her. Both looked flustered in the brightness; Hermione slightly green. Harry nodded and sat on Hermione's other side. Hermione was staring out at the ocean, Ron studying her looking worried. Ron caught Harry's eye and rested his hands over Hermione's gently disengaging her fingers from the bag. Harry caught the bag before it fell, and rummaged through it retrieving the sandwiches Kreacher had packed for them. He passed one to Ron and Hermione and took one for himself, taking a small bite out of it.

They ate in silence, none of them really hungry. After the crumbs had disappeared and they'd each taken a hearty swig of cold water they sat staring at the horizon, both Ron and Harry watching Hermione through the corner of their eyes.

"What if I can't lift the spell?" Hermione's voice shook and was barely above a whisper.

"Nonsense!" Ron said immediately, cupping Hermione's chin and gently turning her face so she could see his eyes. "You got one hundred and twelve percent on our first Charms exam." Both Harry and Hermione's jaw dropped. "You can do this Hermione. We know you can."

Hermione turned to look at Harry, who nodded to show his agreement. Hermione closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and stood up, Ron and Harry scrambling to follow her. She strode toward the street opening, and turned up the road, half sprinting towards the second street. Ron and Harry caught up with her when she stopped at the street corner, staring at the house on the left. Ron stuck his hand into his pocket and brought out the piece of paper with an address and directions hastily scribbled on it.

"999 Grange Road." Ron confirmed, putting an arm over Hermione's shoulder while Harry rummaged in the bag again.

When they'd arrived in Australia, they'd spent 3 days Apparating all over the country, trying to find where Mr and Mrs Wendell Wilkins were living. After teaching Ron how to use a phonebook, several visits to information centres, a nasty bite from a poisoned spider, a rather awkward visit to the Department of Immigration – only worked out to a very quick spell, they'd finally found them. Harry had to admit, Hermione had known how to hide her parents. Voldemort would have had to have spent the last year roaming the world to find them if he wanted them, and even then, Harry had no idea how a wizard would find a Muggle so deep in the Muggle world.

He finally found their wands, and handed them out. Hermione tucked hers into her front pocket; Ron and Harry loosely tucked them into their trousers. They headed across the road to the little quaint house.

"Ready Hermione?" asked Harry as they let themselves in through the garden gate. Hermione glanced longingly at the hydrangea bushes and rose bushes around the garden and nodded. Hermione tiptoes to the front door and tentatively rang the doorbell. It echoed in the small porch, like thunder.

"Just a minute!" came a woman's voice from inside. Hermione's eyes watered slightly as a clattering and scraping came from behind the door, which opened revealing Mrs Monica Wilkins – Mrs Granger.

Mrs Granger stared at her daughter in polite bemusement, seemingly oblivious to Hermione's painful expression, or her wand hanging loosely at her side. "Hello dear," she said, after a long pause, "May I help you?"

Hermione couldn't speak. After spending so long away from her parents, enduring the toils of the last year, the fear for her friends and her family, seeing her mother as she was now – alive, happy, and joyful –she couldn't trust herself to speak.

Harry came to her rescue.

"Sorry Ma'am," he said, cautiously approaching the door. "We got lost on the beach and we can't find our parents. Can you help us?"

"Of course!" Mrs Granger cried, throwing the door wide open and ushering them inside. The three of them crammed into the small hallway, pushed up against the staircase and the wall. But not for long; Mrs Granger ferried them into the living room and told them to sit down while she went to find some snacks and juice. Ron turned to Hermione as soon as Mrs Granger had left the room. Her eyes were wide and fearful and her hands were shaking very badly. "You can do this Hermione," he assured her, throwing his arm around her waist and giving her a tight squeeze. Harry looked around the room. It was a rather large living room; though that could have been the white and blue colour scheme of the wall. A large ornamental rug covered most of the carpeted floor, and a large bookcase took up the entire house front wall. Aside from a large sofa there were just two large armchairs next to the mahogany fireplace and a two-seat sofa finished the rectangle. No television, though Harry thought he heard one coming from the kitchen.

"Hermione, is this like your old house?"

Hermione nodded and carefully extracted her wand from her front pocket; as she did so Mrs Granger came back into the room, with a plate of cookies and three bottles of apple juice. Without looking at them she placed them on the end table.

"There you go dears," she said, turning her attention back to them, just a second too early. Hermione had gripped her wand and flared it wildly, causing Mrs Granger to scream and turn around to flee. She was at the door to the kitchen when the spell hit her. She tripped over the rug and the force of the spell pushed her into a heap on the floor.

"Mother!" Hermione screamed, running over to her and cradling her head in her lap. "Mum? Mum it's me. It's Hermione. I'm home. Mum?" Mrs Granger didn't stir. Hermione bit her lip and her voice got higher and higher. "Mum its ok, you're safe. Remember me? It's your daughter. Mum, please answer me. Mummy?" Hermione's face was streaked with tears as she stroked her mother's face, like a mother comforting a sick child.

Harry watched on, a pit growing in his stomach. Ron was crying too and hurried over to Hermione who immediately fell into his arms, sobbing.

"Hermione?" The whisper was so faint that only seeing Mrs Granger's mouth move was confirmation Harry hadn't imagined it. Hermione turned to her mother, her red, blotchy face dripping with tears.

"Mum?" she croaked.

Mrs Granger sat upright, and looked around the room, utterly bemused.

"Hermione, what on earth are...?"

Hermione threw her arms around her mother, sobbing into her shoulder. Mrs Granger patted her on the back and slowly stood up, not taking her arms off Hermione. It was only then that she realised they were not alone.

"Oh, hello." She said, frowning at Ron. "I met your father in Diagon Alley – was it five years ago?"

Ron nodded and stuck out his hand. "Ronald Weasley," Mrs Granger shook his hand and turned to Harry. Harry saw her eyes flicker to his scar and saw the comprehension light in her eyes.

"And you must be Harry Potter." Harry nodded. Mrs Granger smiled at them politely "I've heard so much about you both!" she said happily. Her smile melted from her face when she angled her face to look at the top of her daughter's head.

"Hermione Jean Granger, what have you done?"

As Hermione was still buried in her mother's shoulder and Harry felt it best if he and Ron explained what had happened but before he could the front door opened and a man's voice echoed around the house.

"Afternoon Dear! I know you said not to bother coming home for lunch, but I thought we could go to that new restaurant that just opened up?" They heard him open the cupboard under the stairs and a lot of rustling. Hermione abruptly let go of her mother and Mrs Granger looked at her daughter the way only a parent does when a child had done something wrong. Hermione shifter her feet sheepishly and brandished her wand at the door. "It saves us finding something for tea and you always complain about the dishes so..."

The living room door opened and Mr Granger stepped into the living room. He barely had time to register the unusual scene before Hermione's spell hit him straight in the face. He staggered backwards and fell onto the stairs, bouncing off the railing and coming to a rest in the narrow hallway on his back. Mrs Granger and Hermione ran to help him, the living room door closing behind them, leaving Ron and Harry in the living room.

"Well," said Ron, selecting an armchair and collapsing into it, "that went well." He rubbed his face in a futile attempt to rid the evidence of tears. Harry wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket and sat down on the couch suddenly aware he was still holding the beaded bag. He hoped that Mrs Granger hadn't noticed.

They heard muffled voices from the hallway and some loud sobs. They both looked toward the sound, but could not think of what to do. Instead, Ron handed Harry a cookie and threw him a bottle of apple juice. Harry pondered for a moment, then unscrewed the cap and tipped half of it down his throat. The coolness was welcome after the emotional scene he'd just witnessed.


	3. Welcome Home

The plate of cookies was a mere pile of leftover crumbs by the time the Grangers entered the room again. Mr and Mrs Granger held their daughter between them, as though they were scared she would disappear again. Hermione had tear stains patterns over her cheeks and her eyes were still red and puffy, but in the past year Harry had never seen her so happy. Hermione beamed at them and they returned her smile, something noticed by her parents.

Mr Granger kissed her forehead and walked over to where Ron and Harry were sitting. "Thank you." He said sincerely. "For watching over her and keeping her safe."

Harry avoided Ron's eye. He knew Ron was thinking of the same thing he was: Hermione's screams echoing around them in blackness. Harry looked back to Mr Granger. "She's like my sister, Sir. You don't need to thank me." Mr Granger narrowed his eyes at Harry briefly, before smiling.

"You have it anyway." He then turned to Ron, who winced. "And you Ronald," said Mr Granger, holding out his hand. "You also have my deepest thanks."

Ron's ears skipped red and went straight to scarlet; yet his voice was steady when he replied, "I'll always make sure she's safe, Sir." Mr Granger raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing. Mrs Granger came up to them still crying with joy.

"Yes boys, we can never thank you enough. You returned her to us." Her voice turned stern "Though of course things could have been handled differently if she had told us what she was going to..."

"Mum!" groaned Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I told you what..." Hermione was cut off when Mrs Granger pulled her into a fiercely tight hug.

"Let's not speak of it again." She said firmly. Hermione nodded and pulled away, gasping for air. Mr Granger looked around the room, as though only now realising where he was.

"I don't know how we're going to explain this when we get back," he sighed. "What will everyone think? We disappear for a year, our daughter becomes none existent then we reappear as a happy family again." He stopped, as though struck by a sudden thought. He rounded on his daughter. "Hermione, how exactly did you set all this up?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Well, your passports and birth certificates were easy enough, just a Mu-"she cleared her throat, "a charm on those prevented people from looking at them too closely, including you. Then it was just making you and mum believe you were someone else and hid all the photos of me. I planted lots of Australian brochures around the house and packed up a few boxes..." she faltered slightly at the incredulous expressions on everyone's faces – Ron's mouth was hanging open – and become very interested in the zipper on her jacket.

"And I assume you can lift those charms you placed and items you've hidden?" her father said sternly. Hermione nodded. Mr Granger looked relieved. "Well we'll start everthing –"

"Dear," Mrs Granger interrupted, "let's discuss this in the morning. There is more important things right now."

Harry thought Mr Granger would protest, but his gaze settled on Hermione and he nodded in agreement.

"Of course."

Harry and Ron shared a significant look and both cleared their throats, loudly.

"Well, err... Ron and I need to go to...err..."

"London," interjected Ron, quickly. "The Ministry of Magic is busy changing and Kingsley wants as many people from Hogwarts there. We should get there." Ron turned to Harry, who quickly backed him up.

"Yeah, I mean, we don't want to intrude and it's a time for family now-" the rest of his sentence was disrupted when Hermione ran towards him and seized his and Ron neck into a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered to them, loud enough for only them to hear. Louder she said, "I just need to talk to these two for a minute."

Mrs Granger wiped the tears from her cheek and nodded encouragingly toward the kitchen. "Of course dear, go in there. Your father and I will be right here."

The three of them hurried into the kitchen. It was rather small and most of the room was taken up by a circular dining table, part of it under the breakfast counter to try give more room, but they all squeezed in, careful to shut the door behind them. Harry turned to his friends, to see Hermione and Ron embracing. He sighed, knowing it was just another thing in his life he would have to get used to.

"Thank you," Hermione repeated, tears still spilling from her eyes. "I never could have...your help...you didn't..."

"We know," Harry said gently, smiling. Ron laughed a little, but made up for it by giving Hermione a one-armed hug. "Do you want us to stay?"

"It...well... London," she blurted randomly. "There is so much left to do! I mean, Hogwarts to rebuild and the Ministry of Magic is in pieces and..." she faltered and glanced at Ron, who looked down and his shoes. Harry glanced around too. The funeral for those who died at Hogwarts was happening soon, the last chance to say by to those who died fighting against Voldemort. Harry couldn't think about it for long. Hermione looked back wistfully at the door to the living room. Ron and Harry could hardly not notice the longing gaze.

"Hermione, stay here for a few days. We'll come for you when – when it happens. Stay with your parents, relax. Hell, you earned it." Hermione looked at Ron who nodded encouragingly.

"It's ok," he assured her. "Stay, we'll be fine." He studied his watch. "It's about two in the morning in England anyway. Stay a few days, like Harry said, we'll come get you." He kissed her – Harry looked away – and then said, "Besides, it's too early to meet your parents."

Hermione giggled and even Harry laughed.

"We'll be at the Burrow if you need us," said Ron, disengaging himself from Hermione and shuffling over to Harry's side. "You'll be fine. You're safer here than anywhere else. Not even You-know-Demort could find them here."

It was the first time he'd called Voldemort anything close to his name. Hermione's eyebrows rose under her hair; Harry was equally astonished but let the moment pass. He leaned forward to hug Hermione, whispered goodbye and hurried out the back door, letting Ron and Hermione have some privacy. In the back garden he revelled in the fresh air, the calmness of the outside. Barely a minute passed before Ron joined him, a little scarlet in the face, but he grinned at Harry who led them around to the front of the house.

In the garden they looked back. It was as though they'd stepped into another world. Looking at the house from out here it seemed so peaceful, so quiet – just a regular house on just another street. Harry watched a small family hurry along the path past the house: a mother running after a young boy who was yelling frantically and pointing at an ice-cream van at the next intersection; his sister was walking beside their father, reaching into a bag of shells and putting each one to her ear, no matter how small. The family hurried past, not even registering the two boys standing the in the front garden of the house. Not even an inclination, that behind its walls a family reunion was happening.

Harry sighed and turned to Ron, who was staring longingly at the door.

"She'll be fine," Harry assured him, walking down the small path. Ron heaved a deep sigh and followed him down the path. He looked like he wanted to talk, but he glanced back at the house, sighed again and said, "So, The Burrow?"


	4. Morning at the Burrow

Harry woke up tangled in his bedcovers. For a split second he wondered what he was doing there, and then reality crashed upon him and his panic subsided. He freed his arms from underneath him, rubbed his eyes and fumbled around for his glasses. When he could finally see, Ron's room came into full focus, down to the bright orange on his bedcovers. Harry averted his eyes. Burnt orange was not the best colour to see upon waking. He listened intently for any hint as to what was happening around the house. The ghoul in the attic – he'd sulked back to the attic when they'd arrived back, the clanging had been even louder than usual – was skulking around, and a few faint voices floated from downstairs. Although he couldn't make out who it was, he was certain it was not Mr or Mrs Weasley. Ron was still sprawled on his bed, his mouth hanging open his eyelids flickering softly. Harry debated taking one of the Owl treats from the pile on his bedside table and hovering it precariously on his nose, but he soon came to the realisation he just couldn't be bothered.

Instead he dived into Hermione's beaded bag – for what he sincerely hoped was the last time in his life – and extracted a pair of jeans and an old top. He dressed hurriedly and tiptoed out of the room. Downstairs he found Bill and George at the kitchen table, with a large pile of sandwiches between them.

"Harry!" cried Bill, leaping out of his chair and seizing Harry's hand while George smiled at him. "Never really got a chance to congratulate you!" he shook Harry's hand then waved it in the direction of the sandwiches. "Mum and Dad left a little while ago – didn't have the heart to wake you and Ron, you all got in so late!"

"Err yeah - we didn't want to intrude on Hermione's reunion." He plopped himself on a chair and grabbed a sandwich. He wasn't hungry yet, but he needed to keep busy. Bill sat back down and turned to George his expression solemn.

"As I was saying, it's going to be tomorrow morning. Andromeda's said that Remus and Tonks will be buried near them, so they're near Teddy." Harry's heart almost stopped beating, and he suddenly wanted to throw up what little of the sandwich he'd eaten. They were talking about the funerals. "She thinks that is what they would have wanted." He paused, and blinked rapidly. "Mum and Dad want Fred buried at..."

"Hogwarts," croaked George. He sounded as if he'd been crying all night; his voice was hoarse and raspy. "He should be buried at Hogwarts." He looked at Bill. "Tell me that is where he's going to be."

Harry felt severely uncomfortable, the guilt set in his stomach felt like lead and he wished he'd remained upstairs. It was his fault Fred had died; his fault that Remus and Tonks would never see their son grow up; all his fault that countless others lost their lives. He hadn't mourned yet, yet it was only a few days ago. Caught up in the whirlwind of celebrating with the survivors, sleeping in Gryffindor Tower, finding Mr and Mrs Weasley and telling them they were going to Australia, finding Hermione's parents – all the time and no time to mourn. He sat at the Weasley's table. He remembered the first time being in here – meeting the whole family for the first time. It seemed like a different time – a time when Bill's face didn't have a huge scar, when George still had both of his ears and his twin...

He shook his head and focused back on the conversation. He seemed to have missed a lot of it, as Bill was stood up, pulling on a travelling cloak.

"I've got to get to the Ministry, Kingsley needed help and I have a few more hours to spare." He fastened the cloak and patted George on the back.

"See you Bill," he muttered. Bill patted Harry on the back, grabbed his dragon hide gloves – a wedding gift from Charlie – and left leaving Harry and George in the kitchen.

Harry got up to leave George alone but George told him to stay a while. Reluctantly, he sat back down, only for George to stand up and stand beside him, leaning on the table. George studied him for a moment, debating what to say.

"You're not blaming yourself are you Harry?" he finally asked. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

"They died, because of me."

"No they didn't," said George, firmly. "We all knew the stakes, we all knew the cost. We did it because it needed to be done. You know that. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"But, Remus...Fred...Tonks!"

George's expression faded, but when he spoke, it was with a certainty and seriousness Harry had rarely associated with him. "They knew the cost too. Their family, our family, was in danger. That is what we fought for. It's what everyone at Hogwarts fought for. No-one was safe while he was alive. It had to end, but you seemed to be the only one who could." He pushed back off the table and walked toward the stairs. "I mean it Harry; we're all so... so proud of you. Slightly terrified too, I mean you did just bring down the most evil dark wizard of all time, but proud nonetheless." He smiled faintly and swept up the stairs, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

It was true. If Voldemort had lived, no family would have been safe- no family was. He was forcibly reminded of the Malfoy's. Draco was a selfish, spoilt child and he had voluntarily sided with Voldemort: yet Harry had never forgotten the night Dumbledore had died – how nervous and hesitant he had been. Draco had never been evil; he'd just always wanted to be the biggest bully in the playground. And yet, at Malfoy Manor, Draco had not sold them out. He had bought them time. Even Draco had realised that not even he was safe when Voldemort was alive. Could that have been the case? The thought jarred him.

Tonks had been an Auror. She'd spent her life trying to track down dangerous wizards and witches. There had always been a chance she wouldn't have come home. But she'd never had a son before then. And Remus: his dad's friend. He remembered what Remus had said to him last – how he hoped Teddy would one day know why his father wasn't coming home. When he was younger, Harry had hated his parents for leaving him with the Dursley's. He'd never understood then – though then he'd been led to believe they'd died in an accident. Now, knowing how they had truly died, he couldn't help comparing them to how Remus and Tonks had died. They had died for their son too- it had stemmed from the same love.

Harry went over to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. It took a while, but finally his face was blotch free, and his tears down the drain. He turned around. He came face to face with Ginny. His heart stopped.

She had obviously just woken up. She was wrapped in a dressing gown, clutching an empty bowl. She must've had cereal for breakfast. Cereal? Why on earth was he thinking about what Ginny had had for breakfast? She was looking at him just as Ron had looked at the spider that bit him in Australia – a mix of horror and awe. She carefully set the bowl on the table, managed a faint smile, and ran out of the room, leaving Harry alone in the kitchen, very confused.

He wished Hermione was there, she'd know just how to handle this situation. How do you get back together with your best friend's sister after you've just spent the better part of the last year cooped up in a tent trying to defeat an evil wizard? Despite himself, the thought made him laugh. He'd never watched any films at the Dursley's, but they had shown a few on lazy days at school and when he thought about it like that it sounded like one of the cheesy film plots from when he was nine. He wondered briefly if that was where Hermione knew so much about relationships – from watching films – when Ron thundered down the stairs, reached blearily eyes for a sandwich, took three – and stuffed as much as he could in his mouth.

"O affin!" he tried to say when he spotted Harry.

"No thanks," Harry replied, joining Ron at the table. Ron shrugged, swallowed the half chewed sandwich in one and quickly demolished the rest in his hand.

"I feel like I haven't eaten in ages!" he declared, helping himself to another two.

"At least a day ago," confirmed Harry, whose stomach had began rumbling at the thought. He reached for his unfinished sandwich and devoured it just as hungrily as Ron. In no time at all, the sandwiches had gone, and Ron and Harry were regretting eating so much food in such a short amount of time.

"What now?" asked Ron, looking around happily as though directions would appear from the cupboards.

"No idea mate."

Ron slid back on his chair, and reached for the post. He riffled through it, seemingly randomly picking out letters and reading them. Or, it seemed like that until Harry, reading the letters upside down on the table, began to understand them.

"Kingsley wants me to go to the Ministry?"

"Looks like it," agreed Ron, skimming another letter. "Not yet, but very soon." He looked up at Harry. "Looks like he knew you'd come back here, all these were addressed to _The Weasley Family and Harry Potter_." Harry shrugged.

"This is my second home."

Ron grinned at him, and tidied the letters back. He looked out of the window.

"Want to go play some Quidditch? We haven't played in forever. I'll get George and Ginny to play."

Harry felt a little chilly.

"I don't have a broom."

"We'll probably have an old spare one," Ron assured him, standing up in his eagerness. "What do you say?"

Harry sighed and looked out the window. He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed being outside, though he wasn't too sure if Ginny would play.

"Sure, let's see if they want to play."


End file.
